Ron's Poetry Book
by Crumbly Crumpet
Summary: Ron writes a poetry book which harry finds.
1. The finding

**AN/ here is a bit of random… stuff. Its my first fic, so please be nice and tell me what you think!**

Ron had always wanted to be a poet. In his third year, he had written a sort of poetry book, which he thought told the story of his life. He'd never told anyone about it, though, as it was too precious to him to be looked at by Harry's and Hermione's tactless eyes.  
Four years later he had forgotten about it. One cold, dark, windy night he left it unguarded in his dorm, just when Harry was bored and he was elsewhere… 

Harry picked up the book, expecting to find juicy secrets about Ron's love life. Of course, he would never spy on Ron's love life, but as he wasn't there….

Opening the thick notepad, Harry read in wonderment:

**Ron's Book of stuff – Mits off!**

_Macaroni cheese  
Macaroni cheese- it's great.  
just great!  
I love eating macaroni cheese.  
Its so… digestible  
And oh so cheesy.  
If I could cook,  
I would cook it.  
But I cant.  
So I'll leave it to mum  
And the house elves.  
Because,  
For some strange reason,  
They enjoy it.  
I love macaroni because  
It is creamy.  
And yellow.  
It has stood by me all my life,  
With its cheesiness.  
If there is one bad thing about Harry,  
It's that he doesn't like cheese.  
And he laughs at me when  
I enthuse about it.  
But it's so great  
I'm at a loss without it.  
So I thought I'd write a poem  
About macaroni cheese._

Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised at how his friend had kept this great talent from him for so long. He wasn't much good at quiddich, but boy, could he write poetry. And there was more!

_Socks  
Every morning,  
Around 8:00,  
I face a difficult decision.  
Purple or green?  
Red or blue?  
My socks tease me._

Harry has nice socks.  
I wish I had Harry's socks.  
Everybody loves Harry's socks.  
Everybody loves Harry.  
Everybody gives Harry nice socks.  
With snitches on,  
With wands on,  
Even with overalls on.  
Nobody gives me socks.  
Except my mum.  
But they're maroon.

So every morning,  
Summer or winter,  
Spring or autumn,  
My trunk is a failure.  
It only stocks sad socks.  
And I don't want to wear  
Sad socks.  
I want cool socks  
With snitches on.

Harry's socks are so cool,  
He even has a pair that  
Whistles  
Like a sneakoscope.  
He says they're Uncle Vernon's  
Old ones.  
But muggles can no way  
Be able to make their socks  
Do that, so maybe  
Harry enchanted them.  
I'll have to ask him  
How to do it,  
Without him guessing  
I want to do it myself  
Cos that would just look  
Sad.

I heard about a shop  
In Hogsmeade,  
Which sells lots of socks.  
Socks that scream when they get  
Too smelly,  
Although that could be  
Very embarrassing.  
There are also socks with broomsticks  
That can fly  
And socks with feet  
Which need their own little socks!  
But all I have

Are boring socks.  
Muggle socks.  
And mum's  
Maroon socks.  
I'm a failure.

Harry stared in awe at the page. This amazing form of poetry must be close to the wonderful verse of the Vogons, which Harry had read about in a weird book about space he had found on the Hogwarts Express. This outpouring of Ron's heart touched Harry, making him feel emotional. If these poems were to be published, the thought that he was in them was almost too much to bear. He could be famous! People will have heard his name associated with these fabulous works of art! He wept. Then he laughed, cos that wistling in his socks in his third year had been because he had shoved a sneakoscope in them. And Ron had known it, too. He would never understand that boy. Harry stopped thinking and looked down at the next poem. This one was about llamas. Harry didn't know Ron even knew what llamas were. Oh well.

_Ode to the llama  
Oh llama.  
You're so alarming!  
With your purple toenails  
And your famous  
Cheesy Scapegoat.  
I have always admired  
Your sleepless nights  
And lack of appetite,  
Because neither of these things  
Affect me at all.  
I wish I could meet you,  
Legendary llama.  
Your reputation is precise,  
And your turnips are  
Growing well  
In that little patch in your  
Back garden.  
Hermione has spoken of you,  
You wonderful beast.  
With your long neck,  
You look like a  
Retarded hippogriff  
With no wings,  
And feet  
Instead of talons.  
And no beak either.  
In fact,  
You are nothing like a hippogriff.  
But I would still love to meet you  
You magnificent creature  
From –  
Greenland or Peru?  
I shall never know.  
Because Harry  
Is calling me.  
I must leave you.  
Lovely llama of the west._

Harry was puzzled. Where did Ron get the idea that llamas were anything like Hippogriffs? Well, I suppose they were just as close as any other creature Ron had heard of. Except maybe a Graphorn. But they weren't much like them either. Apart from that- this one had to be the best yet. Turnips in the back garden- classic.

_A poem in Rhyme  
I'm gonna try a poem in rhyme.  
Some people do it all the time!  
It can't be very hard-  
I've heard Hagrid do it in the yard.  
No offence to Hagrid-  
But last time he tried we all hid.  
This isn't working as I hoped  
My poetic freedom has eloped-  
Rhyme is just so very restricting,  
My poetic eye is misting.  
Now it's time to eat my lunch,  
Harry has another hunch-  
Maybe Black is innocent?  
His sanity I now lament._


	2. Rats and wands

**An/ ok, so here's some more. The mood changed a bit, I wasn't hyper this time, so we'll see if it still works…**

Harry laughed, remembering how they had been convinced Sirius was guilty. He still felt that dull ache inside that had appeared when Sirius had fallen through the veil, but it was less than it had been. At least he had found out that he was innocent. If he had realised this after he had been killed, it would have been so much worse. He still wished so much that he could have lived with him, as if he was his father, but he had come to accept that their relationship may have been weakened rather than strengthened by this and that they were as close as they could have been in Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. Some of Ron's poems still brought tears to Harry's eyes, showing how mistaken they were four years ago:

_Sirius Black  
A lunatic, they say,  
With greasy hair  
And a manic grin.  
His magic  
Is really dark.  
He must be almost as bad  
As You-Know-Who._

_How did he get like that?  
He was Harry's dad's  
Best friend.  
And now dad says he wants to  
Kill Harry.  
Harry says he's seen the Grim.  
Trelawney's seen worse.  
He'll die before Easter  
If she's all she says she is._

_I'm worried.  
Harry says she's a fraud.  
But Dumbledore hired her-  
She must have made one or two  
Real prophecies.  
Perhaps this is another?_

_But then again,  
I think she a fraud too.  
And Harry's not worried  
Should I be?  
I dunno.  
Worried by my lack of poetic inspiration,  
Perhaps._

_Hmmmmm…  
I sense this is not going anywhere  
Very far or fast.  
So maybe ill stop and write  
About something cheerful  
Like Scabbers the rat.  
I need to apologise to him…_

_Scabbers  
I'm so sorry,  
Scabbers,  
About that  
Abominable cat  
Crookshanks._

Hermione has gone too far  
This time.  
You are such  
A darling rat  
With your long tail  
And watery eyes.

I've always said  
I hate you,  
But you are a wonderful rat,  
Really.

Just thought I'd tell you,  
Now you're in decline,  
That cheese always did make sense  
And I don't know why you wont eat turnips  
Cos they're lovely with cheese.

And you don't need to worry  
About Crooksahnks.  
I'll protect you from him.  
That detestable creature.

Hermione deserves better.  
I mean she shouldn't have bought  
That cat,  
If she values my  
Rat.  
I'm so annoyed,  
About that.

Harry laughed again. It was a crappy poem, but it stopped him thinking about Sirius. But Pettigrew had betrayed his parents. He stopped laughing. These poems were getting very weird and dismal. Hopefully there would be some more of Ron's amazingly inspired work further on. He skipped the next few rolls of parchment, cos they were all about Sirius and Dumbledore and he just wasn't in the mood.

_Parchment  
Why is it that parchment  
Can expand  
So much  
When you're writing  
An essay for Snape?  
Or Binns, to a lesser extent.  
Or any teacher really.  
__The point being,  
Hermione's parchment looks so short,  
But mine looks so long.  
How does that work?  
Hermione's the one who can fill  
Any length of parchment.  
And I have trouble with six inches.  
I tried shrinking it in 2nd year,  
But Snape noticed.  
And he put me in detention.  
But it's not fair.  
I hate expanding parchment.  
I'm gonna go buy some greengages.  
Right now.  
Cos I'm so annoyed.  
And greengages  
Are really good if you're annoyed  
Cos they're all succulent and nice.  
Heheheh  
Greengages…_

Harry could remember Ron trying to shrink his parchment. It had caught fire, emitting a series of purple and blue sparks, and then turned into a parrot and flown away. That was why Snape had put him in detention. I mean, who wouldn't, especially when the parrot had crapped on his favourite cauldron, burning a 2-inch hole in the bottom, which was impossible to mend. It must have been the best spell Ron had done in years. Sadly, he couldn't remember how he had done it. Oh well.

_Um  
Right at the moment  
I have no inspiration at all.  
I'mso bored.  
Why is it-  
That when you set aside  
A nice time to write  
When Harry's playing Quiddich,  
And Hermione's in the library-  
You can think of nothing to say?  
So, for lack of a better subject,  
I will talk to you  
About wands._

_I like my wand.  
It's really pretty.  
With its sexy polish  
And the beautiful unicorn  
Tail hair.  
Im so glad  
I don't have Charlie's wand anymore,  
Cos that sucked.  
It was rubbish  
And sluggish._

_But this one-  
It's great!  
I love my wand, its really beautiful  
And great.  
And sexy.  
I bet Hermione's jealous.  
Hers is vine wood,  
With dragon heartstring.  
Which is boring.  
And common.  
And I don't like vine wood._

_I bet she jealous.  
I know she's jealous.  
She just won't say anything,  
Cos she doesn't like it if you're better  
Than her.  
Which is rubbish,  
Really.  
Cos I am.  
And she has to know it.  
Yeah,  
Right._

Harry was disturbed. Since when did Ron have sexual feelings for his WAND?

**so, how was it? and does anyone have any ideas for other poems? or even a plot? please r+r thanx so much to every1 who has already!**


	3. Where's Ron?

Neville walked timidly into his dorm, not wanting to disturb Harry, who had been laughing and crying manically for the last four hours, but he really wanted to get some sleep as it was 3 am and he had a transfiguration test first period the next morning.

Two hours later Neville was really annoyed. Transfiguration was hard enough without having spent the night seeing torch light coming from Harry's four poster bed and hearing his muffled chortling coming from under his hippogriff duvet. And where was Ron? He still hadn't turned up! Maybe the lemmings had got him…

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Harry meanwhile had been having the time of his life, reading these poems in torchlight. And he had come across some pretty strange stuff… he didn't know what Ron had been on when he wrote them, but it must have been good…

_Honeydukes  
All the colours of the rainbow,  
Pink and purple, yellow and day glow,  
In this shop here are seen  
In the magical world of the candy queen.  
Where's the candy queen?  
Here's the candy queen!  
With a wonderful sheen  
Of day-glow green!_

_  
Fizzing whizbees, Bertie's beans,  
Choc-a-block with starving teens,  
Honeydukes is just so great-  
There is just one thing I hate-  
Cockroach clusters fill my fears-  
With gummy legs and spiteful leers-  
I'd rather have a chutney slice-  
But Fred and George insist they're nice!_

_  
Just one thing holds me back  
Harry's predicament - Alack -  
He cannot come to Hogsmeade now,  
As McGonagall wont sign his form, the cow,  
He'll get out of Hogwarts come what may  
To sample these delights, I say,  
Now I must ask George and Fred  
How to get out of the castle and out of my bed…_

Harry went downstairs for breakfast. As he went through the common room, he saw Neville curled up on one of the armchairs beside the fire. Puzzled, he went up to him.

"Neville! What are you doing there? You look like you haven't slept all night! Strange person…"

"Well excuse me for existing, but it was slightly hard to sleep in our dorm. I don't know if you noticed, but _someone _was reading something _hilarious _last night, and was making enough noise to wake up Grawp, let alone someone with a transfiguration test the next morning. This was the only place where there was any peace at all. Even the bathrooms were riotous – Murtle was wreaking havoc. Again. If you don't mind me, I'll just…"

Neville promptly fell asleep. Harry wondered vaguely what to do with him and decided to leave him alone. He started to go to breakfast. Then he realised he had a transfiguration test too. He lay down on the armchair next to Neville and drifted off too. Maybe if he ignored the test, it would ignore him. It was worth a try.

OoOoOoOoOoO

An hour and a half later Harry emerged from transfiguration. Unfortunately, the test hadn't ignored him, and his robes were now severely damaged by the flesh-eating slug, which had once been his school bag. Luckily Hermione had transfigured it back before it did any more damage, but she wouldn't repair his robes. She had said something about learning the consequences of his actions… Harry wondered why he was friends with her. He started to go to Potions, trying to cover the hole in his robes with his now fully restored bag, thinking about what it would be like if all his robes were ruined, like Lupin's were, and how it must have felt for him to have people like Draco Malfoy judging him purely on his looks.

_Professor Lupin  
Grindylows astound,  
Hinkypunks surround…  
Magical creatures  
Making not a sound  
Are to be found here,  
In Lupin's classroom,  
A room so full of memories  
And times still to come  
That I sit here,  
Listening  
(And writing poems)  
For this lesson  
Must be the best of all.  
We have learnt so much already  
Even Lupin is still  
Fascinated  
By Dark creatures…_

_  
He knows,  
He knows a lot  
About these animals,  
And for some reason  
He makes us think -  
Maybe all these Dark creatures  
Are simply misunderstood…  
And we're just being  
Prejudiced against them.  
Imagine being a vampire,  
A centaur or even  
A werewolf.  
I wouldn't enjoy it much__  
I don't think….  
But then again…  
You have to admit it would be quite cool…  
Imagine having fangs…  
Imagine what I'd do to Snape…  
Revenge!  
Revenge I tell you!  
CHEESE PIE!_

Harry was worried. But he lived through it. He almost didn't live through potions, however, as the new potions teacher was, if possible, even harsher than Snape had been, and had taken 10 points off Gryffindor because of the state of Harry's robes and had put Harry in detention for reading poetry under the desk. I mean, who reads _poetry_ in secret? He must have been imagining things.

_Dementors  
Cold.  
Dark.  
Depressing.  
Miserable.  
Gloomy.  
Scary.  
How can you describe them?  
They're big.  
Dark, like I said.  
They have big cloaks.  
Anyone who's seen  
What's under their hood  
Is in no state to tell us.  
__  
Is there really  
No happiness in the world?  
That's what it feels like.  
How can even Black,  
Who killed so many people,  
Deserve this?  
This depression?  
The insanity?  
Imagine your soul  
Being sucked out…  
It must be the worst fate…_

_  
Or one of the worst, anyway.  
Being cooked in a cheese cauldron  
Must be pretty bad.  
Especially if you don't like cheese…_

Harry ate supper quickly, so he wouldn't be late for his detention. It was colouring different coloured squares so no square was next to a square of the same colour. It must be the most tedious detention invented. It sounded like a _muggle _detention. He'd disembowel toads any day rather than that. He'd never have thought he'd think this, but he was starting to miss Snape… maybe if he brought the book to keep him company…

Immediately he was transported back to his 3rd year again, when Ron and Hermione were bickering about their pets. This detention was going to go on a long time…

_Crookshanks  
That evil cat…  
Will it never leave my rat in peace?  
Poor Scabbers…  
He's going all thin  
And his hairs falling out.  
And he's really nervous…  
Poor thing.  
_  
_How can anyone think  
That excuse  
For a cat  
Is cute?  
It is terrorising  
My pet!  
And Hermione lets it!  
I'm getting in such a stew…  
No, not a cheese stew.  
That's disgusting.  
Why is everyone so  
Obsessed with cheese,  
Anyway?_

Harry was confused. Was there even such a thing as a cheese stew? And if there was, surely it was muggle food that Ron had never heard of anyway? Oh well… Harry looked for Ron so he could ask him.

Harry couldn't find Ron. Now he came to think of it, he hadn't seen Ron for three days. That couldn't be good. Especially as they shared a dorm and had identical timetables.

Harry went to Hagrid's. Surely Ron would be there?

He wasn't. This wasn't good at all…

The lemmings hadn't got him, had they?


	4. Revelations

**A/N: I finished this chapter ages ago, with some help from my friend Isi (witchintraining), who somehow managed to remain sane through all my tipos… typus… typos, but through a combination of factors never got round to uploading it, and now I look IN SHAME at the date I last updated - 11-23-05 – and want to curl up and die with shame. BUT I will not do that. I will update! Here you go! **

**A/N 2: All I know about lemmings is that they follow each other off cliffs and that's probably a myth, but we'll build on that, shall we?**

Ron was worried. A strange thing seemed to have happened to him. At some point, approximately three days ago, a strange urge had gripped him to try to discover whether Grawp really fancied Hermione. There wasn't much he could do about it if he did, seeing as Grawp was a giant, but he just really needed to know.

Unfortunately, as he was nearing Grawp's clearing, a small furry animal jumped out of a tree directly above him and tried to gorge his eyes out. This wasn't going to plan.

The lemming ignored Ron's feeble attempts at fending him off (he was never was that good at Defence), but sadly, as lemmings are small creatures, it could only reach his crotch.

"Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!," Ron shouted, "nasty little bugger!"

The lemming was surprised, as he had never met anyone who had a problem with his groin-grabbing tendencies. As Ron lunged at him he scampered away in that tempting way lemmings do and Ron, as so many people had been known to do, followed it blindly to his fate.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

As Ron lay at the bottom of the cliff, he contemplated this afore said fate. He decided in retrospect that he shouldn't have followed the lemming quite so blindly. He hoped Hermione would never find out about this.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Neville had had a bad dream. In it he had dreamt that someone had been hurtling after a small furry animal over a cliff over and over again. He was pretty sure that someone had red hair. He was practically certain that that someone was Ron. He told Harry about this, but Harry wasn't interested. Harry, as a matter of fact, happened to be reading a certain, now hopelessly dog-eared, poetry book. And he was grinning. Grinning with glee.

_Divination _

_What is the point?  
I ask again – what IS the POINT?  
That lady…  
Calls herself a professor….  
She can't teach for toffee!  
Well, maybe for toffee.  
Maybe I should try that.  
Well, at least I'm not Harry.  
She ADORES him…  
Well, she adores fantasising about him…  
Fantasising about his DEATH_

_Cheerful lady, she is.  
Ah, well.  
Maybe 'divination' will get more interesting by OWLs.  
Doubt it, somehow.  
I've half a mind to take a leaf out of Hermione's book…  
Quit…  
Trelawney would like that…  
Actually, I think she would.  
What is it about Hermione that makes people like her so much?  
Don't answer that._

_Harry's really losing it though…  
Mental, he is.  
Says he's seen the Grim.  
I think that old cow's getting to him,  
I'm sure he'll see sense in time…  
Now for my Care of Magical Creatures lesson.  
Hurrah!  
Magic! Creatures! Care!  
Care?  
Who cares?  
I don't…_

By this time Harry was guffawing with delight. No more divination! Ever again! How good was this… And care of magical creatures! No more of that again either! Ever! Muahahaha… how long ago his 3rd year felt…

_Time_

_One of the things we take for granted,  
__A thing that seems so small…  
__Time is mysteriously enchanted  
__So we hardly think about it at all.  
__I certainly don't._

_Snape _

_Greasy hair, Greasy nose,  
__Greasy body and greasy clothes…  
__Snape is a thoroughly greasy guy,  
__A pillar of grease reaching the sky,  
__His greasy fingers itching to pry,  
__His greasy humour will never get you high…_

_If ever there was a man who was made of grease,  
__Snape would be the one.  
__Even his new fleecy fleece  
__Is greasy like a currant bun.  
__I think if I had a Snapey Snape,  
__I'd run to the moony moon,  
__Because he's such a greasy ape  
__He's like a foreteller of doom._

Yes, Harry thought. 3rd year was a long time ago. In the 3rd year he knew Dumbledore would always be there to protect him. He knew he was safe with Dumbledore there. He knew Dumbledore would shield him from harm and keep him safe. Or at least he thought he did. Harry just wished he knew what it was that had made his old head teacher trust Snape so fiercely, what had convinced him that Snape would never return to Voldemort. Throughout his school days he had thought Snape was 'up to something'; according to him and his friends Snape and Draco combined were behind anything unpleasant that happened at Hogwarts. And it never turned out that he was. Could there be a mistake – was there any loophole, any way that Dumbledore could still be alive? Harry shook his head wearily, trying to rid his head of the thoughts that had been plaguing him since June.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

At that very same moment in time, Ron was also shaking his head, vigorously. A rather obese looking lemming seemed to have landed on top of the woolly hat he was wearing to keep him warm and he was doing his best to dislodge it. He was also wondering how on Earth he'd manage to climb back up the cliff with a suspected broken pelvis, and somehow emerge looking the hero. Suddenly, the idea came to him in a flash of inspiration.

_Hippogriffs _

_Hippogriffs, shimiffogriffs.  
__How I adore thee, hippogriffs.  
__If I had been blessed  
__With the gift of wings,  
__Then I would haunt you,  
__Oh Hippogriff things._

_Majestic creatures of the sky,  
__You will always fly…  
__Out of reach.  
__Out of mind._

_Out of darkness and into light,  
__Hippogriffs, I'll follow you with delight.  
__Shining feathers,  
__Pulsing wings,  
__Rulers of the sky -  
__The queens and kings._

Now the only question was how… was there any way… any way at all… that he summon a hippogriff from down here??

**AN/ So how did you like it? Sorry it's not very long... I'll try better next time! Please R&R!**


End file.
